Not His Fault
by paanties
Summary: Lonely nights alone can escalate to odd dreams about one's servant.


_**A/N:**__This is was a request made by a friend from a while ago. Ignore grammar mistakes and such I didn't read it over or have a beta do it. Enjoy!_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the idea. The characters already have owners, I'm just borrowing them for a bit._

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Unintelligible groans were heard escaping the mouths of ghouls. Blood slid down his face, and his face absorbed it. The dangerous mouth spread into a smile—no, a leer. The leer gave him a lewd sort of elegance that demanded acknowledgement. Shots echoed in the open space. Bullets found their targets with deadly accuracy. Deteriorating bodies tumbled to the ground into heaps of mold-like ash and blew away in the breeze.

It was a lovely night. It truly was. It was one of those nights that dragged the urge to sink his fangs into the soft flesh of a virgin sluggishly through his veins, drawing out his most primal instincts and making his fangs ache with yearning. A pleased growl rumbled from his throat as the last ghoul fell.

Then suddenly he was no longer on the capacious field. He was in his master's room. He appeared just as she was removing her dress shirt. Feeling quite bold, he walked up behind her to run his fingers up her sides and place them on her shoulder when the shirt fluttered to the floor.

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There was a moment of tense silence before she turned around to punch him squarely on the nose. The hit never landed but his master did. On the bed.

She found herself airborne for a graceful arc and her hair billowed out when she came into impact with the soft mattress beneath her.

Whatever words that had crawled up her throat stuck there. She was unable to move from the artistic sprawl she had landed in when the vampire settled himself between her legs. Smaller hands flew up to push against her servant's shoulders and chest in a weak show of refusal seeing as the protest could not leave her mouth. One stronger, larger hand grabbed the delicate wrists and pinned them above her head of platinum.

The hard, gloved fingers held fast as she struggled to be free from his grasp. However, the growing hardness pressing against her slowed her. Fear set fire to her body; it consumed her. It lit every nerve in her body and she felt the smallest movement. The soft fabric beneath her seemed to chafe her skin all along her back like her bullet proof vest on a hot day. But Fear had not come alone. It had brought friends, Lust and Want. These two drenched her with cold sweat. Her inner core was cold, frozen solid into a block of internal organs begging to be melted, burned, scorched by the heat of Fear. If she were to be honest with herself, the sensations of Fear, Lust, and Want were a delicious contrast to each other.

If she were to be honest with herself, she wanted this more than she had wanted anything in her life. If she were to be honest with herself, the monster that had stayed by her side was more than she could ever wish for as a partner. If she were to be honest with herself, she could care less about her 'Iron Maiden' title, her morals. If she were to be honest with herself, she would throw that all away just to be able to sate this hunger of hers. But if she were to be honest with herself, he wasn't just a tool. And the No-Life King knew this.

A hot purr tickled her ear, "Just relax, Master. You will enjoy this."

She couldn't relax; her body wouldn't let her. Her body struggled even harder after the vampire had spoken. Her mind and body had switched roles. Her mind screamed for her give in, to let him take over, to indulge herself even it was just this once (though knowing her vampire, it wouldn't be 'just this once'; he'd be back again and again, and her mind didn't care). Yet her body fought. It fought for the morals she didn't care about anymore. It fought for the virginity that she didn't want anymore. It fought against what her mind was begging for.

A dark chuckle sounded in the suddenly too dark room. Everything faded away and all that was left was her vampire and her partially naked body.

"Why are you not relaxing, master?"

She could feel his smirk; it was tangible, surrounding her and permeating itself into the very air she was breathing.

"Is your body not letting you? I think I might be able to help with that..."

For a moment, she couldn't feel anything; not the hands holding onto her wrists, nor the presence that had been pressed into her between her legs. Then, without warning, a pair of gloved hands removed the remaining clothes clinging to her person. A small gasp escaped her involuntarily. Quickly, she found herself in a closed space and she fought relentlessly to break out of the enclosure.

Until something slipped between her legs and stroked her.

It was nothing she had ever felt before. She didn't know what it was, but she knew what it wasn't; it wasn't fingers, nor was it _gloved_ fingers. It couldn't possibly be what lay between Alucard's legs. It was an indescribable substance that seemed to move and change in shape constantly... much like Alucard's hair; the hair that was actually just an extension of the vampire. He was touching her without touching her.

Integra pressed her legs together but this wasn't solid matter that could be easily pushed away or blocked. The substance stroked her clit gently with a steady pace, driving her to the brink of insanity. Soon, the heir of Hellsing found her legs spread and body pumping in time with the caresses to her core. Just as she suppressed a moan building in the back of her throat, the tendrils slipped into her slick, wet entrance and _curled_ once inside.

Ice blue eyes widened in shocked ecstasy and the suppressed moan flew out of her mouth loud and clear. The tendrils that had curled against her inner walls suddenly _unfurled_ and expanded to fill every crevice inside. A sharp, resounding gasp escaped her parted lips. The shadows inside her _pulsed_; once, twice, three times. She thrashed, throwing the head of platinum blonde against the silk, plush lining of Alucard's coffin and making sounds she had never made in her life. She whined, whimpered, and mewled... _for more_. She would have found it embarrassing but she was too far gone to even care in a hundred years.

Large, gloved hands grasped her knees and clothed legs hit the back of her legs. A hard weight was placed upon her navel at the same time the hands placed themselves on either side of her torso. Integra realized her servant was leaning on his elbows so that his head was level with her breast. That _long, long_ tongue circled one of her nipples. Alucard's legs pulled back and simultaneously, the expanded tendrils also pulled out. When his legs were once again flush with Integra's, the tendrils slid back in, and the thick weight against her navel rubbed hotly against her skin. She writhed beneath his body which resulted in her vampire setting a punishing speed, brutally grinding against her.

The stream of breathy moans and throaty groans were continuous; though her servant's strained grunts were few. Scalding heat started to pool in her belly, spreading all across her body and eating its way to her fingertips and toes. The intensity of the sensation was so severe that she could no longer take enough breath to make sounds. Instead, all that left her mouth now were short, uneven pants. The heat scorched the very marrow of her bones. It built and kept building until it was unbearable and just too much for her to handle. Integra threw her head back with a keening cry and—

Clear blue orbs flew open, instantly narrowing in the darkness. Silently, the blonde threw her blankets aside and dressed jerkily in her signature suit. She stuffed her feet in her shoes before grabbing the 9mm Smith&Wesson she kept in her vanity drawer. Quickly, she strode the shooting range, pointedly ignored the slickness between her legs. The one time she wanted to blame her vampire servant she couldn't: he was out of the country on a complex mission.

She stood at the far end, facing the human-shaped target. Every time she shot, she imagined each target to be Alucard. Integra never missed once.

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When the gangly group of Wild Geese showed up for accuracy practice, the mercenaries were surprised to see holes in the crotches of all the targets. Pip Bernadotte grinned cheekily, what was that saying again?

Ah yes, 'Hell hath no fury like a woman left unsatisfied'.

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_**A/N:** I hope you enjoyed. I love how my first fic back into the fanfiction writing world was pretty much a lime. Remember to read and review!_


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